Foreseen Failures
by Alone in the Desert
Summary: Niklaren Goldeye is one of the most famous mages around the Pebbled Sea. How would he have managed without the privilege of his fame? QuasiAU standalone


Foreseen Failures 

_Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me. Written for the Privilege Challenge at the Dancing Dove. _

"Please, captain, she's right there! Let me take down a boat and bring her aboard, _please_!"

The captain surveyed the man before him. His lined face was sunburned raw and red from the weeks of sailing on a sea that recast even the early spring sun until it could flay a pale man's skin until it peeled off raggedly. Salt was in his unevenly cut, graying hair and the skin under his black eyes sagged, but his expression was pleading.

"How do I know whoever is there is even still alive?" asked the captain, not unreasonably, he felt.

The mage drew a hand across his face. "She is; I _know_ she is. Please, surely even for the chance of saving her…"

The captain hesitated a while longer, but soon called his mate. "Get two sailors to man a boat for Master Goldeye. He is convinced that there is a living survivor among the wreckage of the Trader ship."

Niko thanked him profusely and followed the mate, who led him to a small lifeboat where two of the crew were already sitting ready at oar. As he climbed in, as the boat was lowered, and while the sailors threaded the boat among the flotsam, Niko prayed fervently, _let her be alive_.

"Yes!" he cried, springing to his feet, heedless of the glares of the sailors at rocking the boat. "See? She's waving at us! She's _alive_! I was not wrong. I knew she was still alive!"

It was a grudging silence, he felt, as the two navigated the tiny lifeboat as close as they could manage to whatever the girl was clinging to, a hatch cover, he thought. He reached gingerly over the side of the boat to catch her hand, and tried pulling at it.

"Weak as milk," he murmured, stinging with brine and guilt.

One of the sailors detached from his oar and pulled the child aboard. She offered little resistance or questioning, and the only words that came from her sounded like delirium nonsense. The sailor brought a water-bottle to her lips and ordered her to drink; she did, but feebly. Niko flinched at the grim look on the man's face as he let the unconscious body slide down to the boat's floor. Then, gathering himself, he went to her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, cradling the emaciated, unresponsive body. "I tried to get here sooner, really I did. Maybe if I'd tried harder, if I'd found a direct ship or… maybe you'd have had a better chance to live."

She stirred, muttering something about a box. Niko hushed her, his strokes flicking caked salt off of her cheek.

"There were -- others," he said haltingly, his voice choked. For so long, there had been no one to counsel, to help, even just to comfort. Now he spoke to her as though she could hear him, simply because she couldn't stop him. "Two others, recently. I couldn't reach them. I couldn't afford the passage to Hatar, and the magistrate wouldn't listen, though I told her the boy was a mage who needed training…"

Niko shook his head. He'd never been one to pour his heart out; what made today so different? Maybe it was the near-miss with the little metal mage, or the string of failures he'd been having all spring. Or maybe he knew that when he returned to Summersea, he'd be hard-put to find a home for an orphaned Trader girl. He certainly couldn't afford her keep himself, even if he'd known what it takes to teach her.

Last month's overdue rent had paid his ship-fare to this distant corner of the Pebbled Sea, so when he returned, he was likely to find another lodger in his room. He'd have to find a new place to live, and replace whatever his landlord had scavenged from the room to pay his debts; all his books, kept safe-though-tattered for years, since his graduation from Lightsbridge. Well, at least the girl was alive, and perhaps he could convince the local temple to accept her.

"Would you like to be a dedicate?" he asked, smoothing back black hair. "I know your people don't follow the Living Circle, but the temple would be a good place for you. If you agree to become a novice, you won't have any tuition. They'll give you food and clothes… everything I can't afford."

Eyelids fluttered. "Wha --" she half-sat, but collapsed back into his lap, muscles too weak from starvation to hold her. "I'm alive?"

"Yes," said Niko softly. "We found you, you're alive, and you're safe. Don't worry, dear. Everything will be just fine."

"Trader and Bookkeeper, thank you for saving me," breathed the girl as her eyes flickered shut again. "Who are you?" she asked, not looking at him.

He placed a hand on her forehead. "My name is Niklaren Goldeye. I'm a mage. You can call me Niko."

"Daja Kisubo," she said. "Oh, mama! My family, they're all dead!"

His eyes stung as he hugged her. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, and could almost feel her fear as she shivered, then started crying.


End file.
